


Searching Stones

by Tvieandli



Category: Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann
Genre: AU, Half-Sibling Incest, M/M, but not really... spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 21:25:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2403380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tvieandli/pseuds/Tvieandli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years ago, Kamina and Simon were left together on a pig farm in the middle of the desert. Now seventeen, Kamina returns to try and track down his missing father, hoping the man might have some answers concerning his sudden disappearance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There are four roads here, and Kamina's not even ready to take one. He hears Simon sniffle behind him, one long snort meant to corral wandering snot. Wind rucks up the bottom of his jacket. 

There's gotta be an honest lie somewhere in the pile, but he can't suss it out from the bullshit or the dog piss and it's really starting to tick him off. Simon sniffs again and Kamina almost wants to tell him to shut up with that because it's hard to hear himself think over all that noise. He knows the noise is in his head though, and grits his teeth on it.

Somewhere ahead of them, his father is strolling along on his own unhindered by fears or earthly tethers. Kamina sets his jittering fingernails against the palms of his hands and presses hard, hoping maybe he'll be able to draw blood, spur himself forward, force himself to follow.

"Bro?"

He pretends not to hear the younger boy, keeps staring down the long dark path he watched his father take years ago. He doesn't want to turn around. He doesn't want to look away. He wants to conquer it. 

"Kamina?"

He grumbles at the dark. At himself. Simon looks tiny and dejected when he turns around. He smiles at the kid, and tries not to think how easy it would be to follow dad without his little brother. "What's up, Kiddo?" he asks. 

Simon shivers and Kamina knows it's the cold that's got him sniffling so hard. It's the dry as ice air stinging his nose, biting through his jacket. 

"We should get back to Gurren, huh?" the boy nods fervently as the wind tugs gently on his dark hair. Simon's hair is just like dad's. Dark and shiny. 

Gurren is the one thing the old man left them when he packed up his things and walked out . Kamina remembers the feeling of the cold car keys in his hand as he watched the man's back grow steadily further and further from him. The roadrunner's seen better days, but the seats smell like worn leather and family. Kamina would never dream of trading it in. Better just to keep up with the maintenance. 

Simon crawls haphazardly into the passenger's side, and curls up in a cold, tiny ball, tugging his jacket closer around himself. Kamina tries not to feel guilty for bringing them all the way back here. Even after swearing he'd never go home again. Jiha stinks like hell. Like pig farms and stagnation. Jiha is the worst place on the planet.

"Are we going to find your dad?" Simon asks. Kamina bites on his tongue to keep himself saying too much. Saying "he's your dad too". Simon wouldn't be happy to hear the family he'd had was a lie. In profile, staring out the windshield, Simon looks just like him in miniature. Kamina wants to touch his cheeks, force himself to remember the old man's face by staring into Simon's.

If only they'd been left with one picture. Just one picture. Or maybe if Kamina had looked anything like him. If he could look in the mirror and have dad back. His eyes stare back russet from the rearveiw instead of dark like coal. He keys the ignition. They'll find a motel for the night, or they'll find a parking lot to sleep in and curl up in the car. However he ends up working it out, they'll keep worrying about the old man in the morning. Now the sun is fully down and dusk is bleeding out of the black sky. 

\--

"All the stars are little fish," Simon tells him sitting exhausted at the motel room's table. The desert is desolate and dusty outside. The only thing that can be said for it is the lack of light pollution in small towns. The milkyway swims bright and magnificent above them, it's pale arms arking through the sky to wrap safely around earth. 

Kamina paints paths of warmth over the kid's shoulders with his hands, squeezing gently. "Get to bed, kiddo," he advises against the boy's crown. Simon shrugs. "You want me to come with you?"

"Yeah."

"Alright," he says, dragging the kid out of his seat and onto his feet. He tugs the boy's shirt off over his head. "You want pajamas?"

Simon shakes his head and Kamina pretends to make a fuss by grumbling at him. He follows Simon's example regardless, shucking down to his underpants and crawling under the covers. The kid curls up at his side right under his arm, a soft warm weight.

Kamina stares at the ceiling and listens until Simon's breathing is even and steady, his body rocked by soft sleep twitches that lapse from dreams into reality. It's quiet. The dark hangs over him in an oppressive fog, pushing childhood fears of being trapped onto his chest, smothering him under it's weight. He falls asleep to the sound of Simon gently snoring.

\--

Chief was never much help in the beginning, so Kamina doesn't know why he expected anything, but seeing the old bastard's face in anything other than his mind's eye for the first time in three years is more than enough to work him into a near frothing rage. He'd forgotten how much hate sat between them when they had miles carefully laid out between their existences.

"I still can't help ya," he says again. Kamina wants to kill him. To gut him and skin him and make him a trophy. 

"Forget I asked," he finds himself hissing into that big ugly mug. He curses his luck that he didn't get his father's height. Still having to look up at Chief is humiliating. Kamina is seventeen now. He feels it in his bones that he's stopped growing.

Simon looks sheepish when kamina finds him on the porch and leads them back out to the car from the disgusting house. The pigs scream at them all the way down the road and Kamina wants to vomit but doesn't because he can't stand to think of them eating it up.

"What happened?" Simon asks when they're back in the car. Kamina grips the steering wheel hard, watching the tattooed bands on his arms stretch with the movement.

"He's not going to help us," Kamina tells him. Simon looks disappointed and Kamina thinks it's ridiculous because he doesn't even know what they're out here for exactly. He can probably smell it though. They've been together long enough, they've been alone long enough, that Simon probably knows intrinsically.

"Is there anyone else who can help?" The boy asks and Kamina wishes there was but all of dad's old friends are either dead or gone. Like anyone with a lick of sense who ever lived in Jiha. Kamina doesn't blame them. 

"I'll just have to think of a way to get him to talk," he decides. Gurren's engine block turns and the beast growls as it wakes up, sound vibrating through the car's metal body around them. He'd used to love listening to the car turn on when he was a kid. When he was thirteen. When he was Simeon's age.

Simon doesn't have the same appreciation for machinery he does. The kid stares out the window at the stirring scenery. Rocks rocks and more rocks. If they squint there are some Joshua trees. Kamina pulls Gurren along the tire tracks that demarcate the road beneath all the desert dust, back toward town. He feels stupid for ever thinking Chief would willingly help him. 

"The guys were there," Simon says softly. Kamina cuts his eyes through his peripherals to get a read on the kid. He looks tired and regretful.

"What guys?" Kamina asks, intentionally playing dumb.

"Our gang."

"Yeah." Dirt and dust thunder up around Gurren's windows. "What do you expect?" Simon shrugs. "Those guys ain't ever getting out of here. They chose that a long time ago. They got comfortable on shit mountain."

Simon doesn't look at him and Kamina gets the vague feeling the kid thinks he's the one to blame for them choosing Jiha and not life. He swallows guilt. Silence settles and Kamina doesn't have to turn on the radio to know there's nothing decent on it. Probably a religious program and some folk music he had no interest in.

There's an old mixed tape in the player, and he thinks of putting that on, but Simon still isn't looking at him and ultimately he thinks maybe he deserves to suffer the silence. 

Town looks like shit when they get back to it. Kamina sling shots them through the Arby's drive though after counting change. It's fast food but it's hot food, not like the kind you can get at a vending machine or in a dumpster. 

Simon eats greedily, barbecue sauce spreading up his cheeks, and licks his fingers afterward. Kamina pokes gentle fun at him as he cleans the boy's face up, and Simon smiles at him begrudgingly. 

"Are we gonna find your dad?" The kid asks again quietly. Kamina watches his little sauce stained mouth as he speaks. 

"Maybe," he says, still not thinking about how they're looking for Simon's dad too. 

Simon tastes like the barbecue sauce on his mouth. Kamina swipes his tongue out along the boy's lower lip and listens to him gasp, watches him shudder a bit. He pulls back, and takes another bite of his sandwich, only now he thinks it tastes like Simon, and he wants Simon in his mouth more than food.

He ignores that thought. Chases the taste away by finishing off his cola, and gathers up all their trash to throw it out. Simon's still fidgeting softly and rubbing his fingers over his lips reverently when Kamina gets back to the car. 

"Are we going back to the room now?" Simon asks. He's curled a bit defensively around his lap. 

"You want me to drop you off?"

Simon gives him a stilted little nod. 

"Sure, kiddo."

\--

He trolls bars for a while. Hits up all the old man's used to frequents. The ones he can remember anyway. There are a few people around who remember Aoki, but none of them remember him well. 

"That idiot left when his boy was just about thirteen. That was five years ago now I think. Dropped the kid to work on Chief's pig farm and just disappeared. Then about two years later his kid went missing too," an old man sitting in the back of Hibiki's bar explains. 

He'd been happy to loosen his lips for a few beers.

"Thanks," Kamina says. "Do you know if anyone would have any idea where he went?"

The old man shakes his head ruefully. "As I remember it Aoki was popular but he didn't exactly keep many friends. Everyone liked him well enough but no one knew him. That's why it was such a shock, him abandoning his kid like that."

Kamina nods. "I'm trying to find him," he says.

"I'd figured," the old man says. "The question is why?"

Kamina tips his pint by it's rim, watching the butt of the cup come up gently off the table with a hollow glass sound. The beer inside sloshes, reaching for his finger tips. "I'm the kid," he admits to his alcohol.

The old man's eyes widen a bit, giving him a better look. "Would have expected you to look more like him," he says. Kamina feels shame burn under his cheeks and ignores it.

"I take after my mother," he explains. He thinks about Simon and his rounded eyes, his dark hair. Simon looks so much like dad. He wishes he looked like Simon.

"Should you be drinking?" The old man asks conspiratorially. Kamina laughs and hands him the remainder of his beer. "Can't believe they didn't card you." It's the tattoos. Kamina doesn't bother explaining,

He manages to track down Simon's aunt by asking about the kid's parents. That at least the old man knows. Kamina follows his directions into the more residential area of town to a little, run-down house. She looks at him a bit surreptitiously when she opens the door.

"You don't look like a sails man," she says.

"I'm not," Kamina tells her. He's surprised just how old she is. "Are you Seiko's sister?"

"I'm Seiko's aunt," the old woman says. Great aunt. Makes sense. Makes sense then why she couldn't take Simon in either. He swallows.

"I was here to ask a few things about her," he explains.

"What business is it of yours?"

"I been raising her kid," he says. He tries to say it proudly but his voice wavers a bit and the old lady squints at him hard.

"Kamina?"

"Yeah," he admits. 

"What kind of questions could you have for me?" 

"Can I come in?" He asks. She looks hesitant but she lets him.

"Didn't recognize you with the ink," she rambles as she leads him down a narrow hallway into the living room. "Shoulda though. Your old man was all ink. Terrible influence. Bit of a shame my grand nephew's with you."

Kamina swallows again. 

"Degenerate son of a degenerate father."

"Your niece and my father were close," he starts and the woman's eyes flash at him angrily.

"If you call manipulation close. I suppose. Yes," she said in this oddly serene voice. 

"I'm trying to find him," Kamina says. "Did Seiko ever say anything that might give you an idea where he is now?"

The old woman regarded him with cold eyes. "We didn't speak about Aoki much," she says sternly. Kamina chews on his lip. "She told me he came from an island. One of the pacific ones I'm guessing. Had a funny accent but not a Japanese accent."

Kamina knew that. More information he already had. "One of the Hawaiian islands," Kamina says. 

"Maybe you should go look for him there," the woman suggests.

It's a stupid idea. The old man had told him a long time ago that he'd left home for good. The way Kamina had planned to leave Jiha. 

"Where's Simon?" the old woman asks. 

"Why do you want to know?"

"I want to know he's safe," she says.

Kamina sighs. "He's at the motel room." The woman frowns at him. "Won't be for long though," he adds. "We're done here."

"Done?"

"Couldn't find any answers. Time to cut our losses and leave."

The old woman looks regretful. "Where will you go?" Kamina shrugs at her. "How have you even been making money? Why did you leave Chief's in the first place? I sent Simon there for a reason. He'd have been taken care of there. He would have eat well and slept in a bed."

"I feed him well enough," Kamina says defensively. "And you don't understand. None of you ever do. Chief's only nice if he sees you as his equal! Living with him like that we weren't his equals we were his slaves!" 

She looks a bit cowed by the rise in his voice. He screws his eyes shut and tries to refocus past old bruises rising back up on his skin. "I saved him when I got him out! I'm doing the best I can! I'm protecting him from men like that!" he insists, and there's something curious and judging in her beady eyes. 

"How are you making money?" she asks. All the wind flies out of him seeing he's backed into answering this question, and he doesn't know what to tell her.

"Odd jobs," he says and it's a blatant lie. She checks him over with knowing eyes. 

"Are you scamming, stealing, or whoring?" she asks.

He chokes on several not quite verbal retorts at once, and turns on his heal to head for the door. "Wait though, boy. You just wait right there!" she says. He listens beyond his better judgment. Hears her rustle around with something, and then her papery hands are on his wrists, and she's shoving a wad of paper money into his palm.

"I couldn't take care of him," she says. "You're probably right about chief not being the best, and honestly you'd know better than me."

"Thank you," he says softly. She forces a smile at him and he catches it in the corner of his eye. 

"Get out now. There's nothing more I can tell you," she tells him and then adds a quick, "Take care of your brother" after him as he goes. He's not the only one who caught the resemblance then.

He counts the money outside the motel room. It's about six hundred and fifty dollars. The notes feel heavy in his hands. Like god made them and they were handed down by divine right.

\--

Simon is laying naked on his back on the bed, fully asleep when Kamina comes in. He jumps a bit when Kamina drops the fast food bag next to him, snorting as he wakes up. There are a few traces of spunk on his stomach. Kamina ignores it. He was thirteen once. He knows the feeling. 

Thinking about it, he can taste spunk in his mouth and his stomach swirls uneasily around a mix of responses he can't quite define at all. It makes him feel kind of sick but his legs are warm. 

The kid doesn't bother dressing himself before reaching into the takeout bag and pulling out a burger. He eats it hungrily, and Kamina watches him, eating at a more sedate pace, making sure the kid finishes every bite. Simon had been a picky eater once. Kamina was proud he'd trained him out of that. when you scraped by day to day there was no room to be picky. 

"Find anything?" Simon asks.

Kamina snorts at him. "No," he says around a bit of burger. Simon grins at his humor despite the bad news. "We're moving on in the morning. I figure we'll follow him as best we can. Head down the road he took to the next town and start asking there. Maybe we can pick up a trail."

"So this is about your dad?"

"Yeah," Kamina admits. 

"I knew it," Simon declares triumphantly. 

"Ya got me."

"I always do."

They lapse into silence a moment, the lack of conversation drowned out by the sound of soft chewing. 

"Think we'll find anything?" Simon asks.

"Maybe."

"And what happens if we do?"

"Well then we give dad the car keys and someone with a real live license can drive. That way we won't have to worry about getting pulled over for once."

Simon finishes gulping down his burger, and devours his fries at top speed before flopping back down on the bed. "Kamina," he whines softly, and Kamina's ears prick. "Put me to sleep."

He forgets the second half of his burger on the dresser by the tv, and shucks down to his underpants, pulling back the covers. Simon is a burning ball of warmth on his chest. Their skin feels like heaven where it presses together. Little fingers rest dormant on his chest and the boy shuts his eyes.

"I like being close to you," he says.

Kamina wishes he didn't.


	2. Chapter 2

He wakes up early and packs up their things, sliding clothes back into bags ragamuffin folded. He wakes Simon up just enough to get him to pull some clothes on and then lays him out on the seat.

They're out of town before the sun's even fully up. Headed in Littner's direction the way dad went. Just out of sight of Jiah, he stops the car, idling, staring out at the road ahead of them. He glances at the fuel gage. 

There's a road in the dust, but to be honest, there's not much keeping anyone from driving all willy nilly wherever they feel. Kamina takes a sharp turn and drives right off the road, rounding Jiha quickly until he's behind Chief's farm. He checks the back seat to make sure Simon's still asleep. It's cold outside the car, the sun still not up, and the pigs are sleeping warmer places. There are no screams at his approach, nothing to give him away. 

He sneaks up to the fence, and tugs on the metal post hard, watching the chainlink and the chicken wire attached to it rip up out of the ground, brought along by the force. Quickly he moves to the next, and then the next, until a whole five post section of fence is laying in the dust. 

It's quiet when he stares into the pen. The sun's creeping up on the horizon and the pigs'll wake up soon. He gets back in the car and he leaves. He hears the damn things squealing as he starts up the engine, and hopes that they'll cover the tire tracks when they follow him. He feels like Thor, thundering back toward Littner with someone else's live stock chasing him. The only thing that's missing is the dress and the hammer. Gurren could pass for a chariot pulled by cats any day. 

The pigs lag behind him at some point, finding interesting things to eat or just getting tired until they stopped following all together. By the time they're in Littner it's seven, and the sun's up fully. Kamina stops them at a small diner and wakes Simon gently.

"It's time for breakfast, kiddo," he says softly. Simon blinks bewildered.

"Where are we?" he asks.

"Littner."

"We already left Jiha?"

Kamina waves the question off. "Place sucked anyway," he says. This time, they're really never going back there. This time it's history for sure. 

Simon rubs his eyes as they get out of the car. He seems jovial about the promise of pancakes though. Absolutely amazed when Kamina tells him that just this once he can get whatever he wants and not worry about money. It's a good feeling giving him that. A better feeling watching his delight as he eats through a pancake stack with a whipped cream and strawberry face on it.

After breakfast, he rolls them back into the car. "You still sleepy, little man?" he asks as he starts the thing up. 

"Not really," Simon tells him.

It's early still, only about eight, but the sun is already unforgivable. "You wanna come along with me today or should I find you another motel room. It's gonna be hot so I can't leave you in the car."

"I'll come with you," Simon says. "I meant to come with you yesterday too."

"You had better things to do," Kamina says jokingly. Simon looks slightly sheepish.

Kamina has no idea where to start, so he just goes where he thinks the old man would be most likely to go. There's an old auto mechanic shop called "Ron's Lube and Tune" about a quarter mile down from the diner, and it's just as good a bet as any. The old man had been in love with cars. He'd been in love with Gurren, and Gurren had been a beauty before the paint job got a little worn.

He's headed for the door when it opens on it's own. "Is that a Roadrunner?" Kamina loves car enthusiasts. 

"It's a 1970," he says. "Needs a new paint job but the engine's pretty solid still."

The person leaning out the door, Kamina assumes it's a man, smiles widely. "What's it doing here then if it doesn't need to see Dr me?" he asks. 

"Looking for it's owner," Kamina says, jogging up the stairs to the door. "Would've come through here about five years ago. Did you work here then?"

Upon closer inspection, the man seems to be more of a fairy, but Kamina tries not to be distracted by the lipstick, and he really can't judge the hair dye. "I did," he says with a wide smile. "I did work here then. Would I remember this man? Was he particularly handsome."

Kamina pauses because of course the answer's yes, but honestly he was thirteen the last time he saw the old man so he could be misremembering. Things could also have changed. Simon looks like him though, and Simon is definitely attractive. Three years or so and he'll be rolling in feminine affection.

"Come in," the man says. "My name's Leeron. I've owned this shop since dinosaurs."

"Dinosaurs?" Simon asks curiously, following Kamina through the door and into the air conditioning. 

"Dinosaurs," Leeron confirms. "I had a lot of people come through here five years ago, but I don't remember any rogue Roadrunners. And trust me I remember the collectibles when they stroll through my workshop."

"He wouldn't have had the car," Kamina explains. Leeron shows them to a couch made out of car seats in front of a coffee table made out of an engine block. "But he was pretty distinctive. Tall, almost six foot, dark hair, covered in tattoos."

Leeron looks at him curiously. "Ethnicity?"

"Japanese and pacific islander."

Leeron drums his fingers on his chin pensively. "I think so yeah," he says. "I think he did come through here. You're asking about Aoki. So silly I didn't guess it. 1970 Roadrunner in Vitamin-C. I'm an idiot. I remember him driving that old thing when I first met his dumb ass. He was such a charmer. That paint job's really seen a number."

"Do you know where he could have gone?" Kamina asks. He ignores the dig almost pointedly.

Leeron stills, and then gives him this look like a viper sizing its prey. "Why are you looking for him? It's just to give the car back I hope. Everyone was always looking for that man."

"I'm his son."

Leeron blinks at him. "He did say something about that. What's your name?"

"Kamina."

"Okay. But I'm only doing this because you've got a kid with you. Takes a lot away from your corn-fed-Yakuza feel," Leeron says. It's the tattoos. Kamina doesn't explain. 

"Aoki used to come around regularly. That car out there was his baby and damn if he trusted anyone else to do maintenance. Either he did it himself, or he brought it to me. Called it Gurren," Leeron explained. "One day, he comes in, he's on foot, and he tells me he gave the car away. I was distraught. Nothing like seeing a car taken care of, I mean really taken care of. He loved that car."

"Where did he go?" Kamina asks. 

"He was headed North. When he left the shop he turned north down the main road and kept walking until he was out of town. He didn't say where he was going. It was the weirdest thing. If we hadn't talked I would have thought he'd gone fugue. Honestly I almost did but he seemed so with it when he explained that he wouldn't need the car anymore."

"He gave it to me."

"Five years ago? You couldn't have been more than sixteen looking at you. God what on earth use did you have for a car?" 

Kamina stares at the table. "He taught me how to drive when I was nine," he tells the glass table top. Leeron looks offended, but Kamina's pretty sure he's joking. 

"Still not like you could drive it at sixteen without getting pulled over."

Simon snickers. Kamina doesn't say anything. 

"Did he ever talk to you about friends he might have had north of here?" he asks. 

Leeron purses his cherry colored lips. "Maybe," he said as Kamina boggles at the idea of him not being beat out here in this particular neighborhood. People in Jiha aren't exactly eccentricity friendly. He can't imagine it would be much different only thirty miles down the road. "He talked about someone named Genome sometimes. An old buddy. Never said exactly where the guy was, but I got the feeling it was northern. Somewhere colder than here that's for fucking sure."

"Did Genome have a last name?"

Kamina feels Simon shift in his seat excitedly, thighs rubbing together with the bouncing of his feet. 

"If he did Aoki never mentioned it at all," Leeron admits. "Honestly that man talked forever about himself but you never learned anything from it."

"Yeah," Kamina says dully to the table. "Thanks for your time." He forces a smile. 

Leeron looks maybe sympathetic. "Call on me if there's anything you need," he says.

Kamina gives him another small thank you and leads Simon out of the shop by his shoulder. He's tired and he doesn't really know what to do about it. The kid looks confused but he has no idea what to say. He's about to suggest they find somewhere to chill out for a bit, take a load off, when he notices there's someone touching Gurren.

She has acrylic nails on, and he can just feel them biting into what's left of the paint job. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" he asks, but it comes out more like a demand. He doesn't really regret it when she flinches though. When her hands come up off the hood. 

"I'm sorry," she says. "I was just looking at the design you had on it."

Kamina glares at her, and then at the hood of the car where the Team Gurren flag had been painted when he was a kid. It's a vague, faded item now, bare outlines you've got to really look at.

"I'm a sucker for classics with customs, what can I say?" she says lightly. "I do the painting and bodywork around here," she adds then, and she's starting toward them so Kamina pushes Simon behind him a bit. She holds out her hand. "I'm Yoko."

"Kamina," he says then points at Simon, "Simon." He doesn't shake her hand, and he can feel Simon looking at him concerned. He hates girls. Always has always will he's sure. 

She looks a little put out but doesn't show it. "It's nice to meet you. You have a beautiful car. Are you looking to get the paint redone?"

He wishes he could say yes. Gurren deserves its glory. It deserves a beautiful paint job with crisp lines and all the bang or its original color scheme back. Leeron, who had known the car back in its hay day, hadn't even recognized it and that was a crime. It was crime but he didn't have the money.

"Broke," he says and he doesn't want to say any more than that so he pushes past her down the stairs, pulling Simon along with him. 

"Sorry," she calls after them as he shuts the car door. Simon gets in on the other side and sits down with an exasperated noise. He's probably embarrassed. Kamina knows that. He's always embarrassed when Kamina can't manage to keep himself properly civil with strangers, but Kamina's fried. Everything's shit. 

Yoko gives him a guilty little smile as he keys the ignition and pulls back out onto the street.

\--

Kamina doesn't want to stay in Littner long. He feels Chief breathing angry on his neck. Life doesn't seem to care though, and at the end of the day they don't have a single lead to follow out of town. He finds them another motel room, and tucks them into it. Simon sleeps easily, and that's the only comfort he really has when it's dark and he's alone. 

He's up and down the whole night trying to sleep but the sun creeps in over the horizon before he feels like he's got anything more than three hours. He runs down to the corner store and buys some breakfast stuff, laying it all out on the table and taking his pick from the lot. He's just sat down and started unwrapping a muffin when someone knocks on the door.

His stomach jumps into his throat in a parody of Scoobydoo's signature move. His hand is definitely not shaking on the door handle when he peeks surreptitiously through the peephole. He expects to see some of Chief's pigs, these ones all done up in uniform with tazers, and beat sticks, and guns. It's just that girl from the Auto shop though. Her hair is done up in a wrap, but it's still what gives her away, bangs falling around her face, bright-bright red.

She's some sort of fashionista, he thinks. She's got to be, dressed like that. He watches her take off her sun glasses and try to look through into the room. Groaning, he opens the door.

"What do you want?" he asks. 

She looks a bit surprised to suddenly have his face in hers. "I," she says informatively and then stumbles on er words. She's fumbling in her little red hand bag, and he has this weird thing about people pulling things out of bags. It's gonna be a gun. It's gonna be a gun. Her hand comes out quickly, and he's sure to catch her wrist before she can point that damn gun at him. 

She squeaks and he looks down at their hands. She's holding a business card. He swallows, and takes it. 

"I want to paint your car," she says as he peers at the print on the card. 

"I told you I don't have money," he snaps. 

She shrugs like that doesn't matter. "Consider it a favor. Not for you really. For the car. It's all faint now but I can still see what was there. With a little bit of guidance on the color I can restore it," she boasts.

"And you go around doing cars favors often?" he asks. Simon is stirring behind him and he can hear it.

"Every damn day, my man," she says proudly. "Bring that baby in."

"I don't know about staying in town too long," he protests, but she hits him in the arm lightly with her knuckles. 

"Look, you love your car right?"

"It's no-"

"You love the car. Let me treat it to a nice shiny new coat."

"Aren't artists always being extorted for free commission work?"

"Yeah," she says. "So you should be especially flattered that I feel like doing this."

He sighs, and looks at the card again. He can hear Simon making tiny, confused noises as he comes to. "Fine, I'll bring it in," he decides finally. 

"Great. I hope I'll see you soon. I've got a bit of time. Not like I'm exactly backed up with work in this town," she jokes. 

He nods, gives her about half a smile, and shuts the door.

"Who was that?" Simon asks curiously?

"Car paint lady," Kamina says. He tosses the business card at the kid. "She wants to paint the car."

"We don't have money."

"Free she said," he declares to the wall, picking his muffin back up off the table. 

"She's gonna loose money like that," Simon responds. 

Kamina makes a triumphant sound around the baked good in his mouth. "I know. Dumb!"

"You're gonna do it though, right?" Simon asks.

"Fuck yeah!" Kamina tells him. His mouth is still stuffed with Muffin, and Simon seems pretty excited by the idea of paint and food. The conversation dies off, leaving them to eat in silence until there's nothing but empty wrappers on the table.

\--

He pulls Gurren into the parking lot of Ron's Lube and Tune, and leans on the hood, watching the girl talk to Leeron. She sees him out of the corner of her eye, and cuts their talk short to pay him mind.

"Didn't think you would come," she says. Leeron is watching them surreptitiously.

He shrugs at her and she smiles. 

"You're not so friendly," she observes. It makes him crack a grin. "You wanna pull it around into the garage?"

She asks him a few color questions before pushing him back outside with a promise that it'll be done "In a day or two."

"Great," he says, looking out at all cars in the park that aren't his. "Not like we got anywhere to go."

Simon doesn't seem so concerned but honestly it's been years since Kamina left that car for more than a few hours. He's been living out of it so long it actually feels as much like home as Simon does with his too familiar face. 

They find themselves walking down the main road, headed north. There's a bar that looks old and weird enough for the old man to have visited it a few doors down from Ron's. Kamina stopped there yesterday and he figures he can at least hustle some pool if not dig up more pertinent information. Simon knows the game, staying tucked behind him until they're by the tables and mostly out of the bartender's line of sight. Then he picks a seat and drops himself in it.

Kamina buys a pint, and tips some into a little plastic cup for the kid.

He's running scripts on guys for about fifteen minutes before he sees a lick of cash, but he's patient when he knows his game and this is a game he knows. Simon watches, and Kamina is aware of the odd dichotomy because he used to watch the old man hustle pool in dives while they were on the road even before Jiha. 

Those were little memories. Scraps recorded by a wide eyed four year old. 

He rounds up about a hundred dollars before he calls out. They're gonna be in town a while. He can't fuck the locals too good or life'll be hard. Besides it's only about twelve noon. There aren't many people looking to drink just yet. 

Simon smiles at him widely when Kamina sits down at the table across from him. He would slap the money right out there and let the kid look through it but he doesn't wanna be too obvious as a scammer right now.

"Nice work," the kid chirps at him. He's got a straw in a pint cup now and he's been telling people it's apple juice but it's not. Kamina snickers in his general direction.

"I got talent," Kamina boasts. He'd spent a good amount of time in Teppelin teaching Simon the math in balls and showing him cool tricks. The kid's gotten pretty good himself and Kamina has loved letting him go it alone on occasion. Nothing like seeing a biker loose to a kid just out of his tweens. Watching an ego crumble is just about the best kick. "You up next?" he asks.

Simon shakes his head. "Too tipsy," he says. Kamina laughs at him and steals his beer, downing it.

"You wanna go back to the motel and sober up?"

He gets a shrug but they end up leaving anyway.

\--

Simon tugs on his shirt a little when he shuts the door, drawing up on the tips of toes to steal a kiss. Kamina's not exactly sure for a moment, but Simon would be upset if things started changing too fast. Simon tastes bitter like piss-booze and dehydration. It's pleasant. Kamina's a bit of a fan of the texture of tongues, how they've got a grain to them. It's almost as nice as how lips are a bit squishy.

Simon makes little soft noises, rocking back down onto the flats of his feet and pulling Kamina with him. That warm feeling is back in Kamina's legs and he kind of feels begrudgingly toward it as he pulls away. It's a weird feeling. He's not sure about it.

Simon makes a dismayed sound when he breaks away, but it's more cute than anything else. Kamina fails to feel sympathetic for it. 

"Come, on," the kid whines, and there's the pressure in his head telling him to give Simon what he wants so he does. It's wet. Nice. Simon makes this noise and it feel a little like static on Kamina's skin. He feels pretty warm, a little muted, but that doesn't make sense when he tries to actually think about it, so he doesn't.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" he asks against Simon's mouth.

"It's not the first time," the kid tells him. Kamina can't place his tone. There's so much going on. It seems really loud. 

"Yeah," he says, because his mental script is failing him now. 

Simon's kissing him again, and Kamina's lost track of the kids hands under all the noise. Someone makes a whining sound, and he's pretty sure it's him but he's a little confused. 

"Do you wanna stop?" Simon asks pulling back a second, and Kamina considers it, really does.

"More, more, more," he says instead, relying on old punk songs when he can't find his own words. 

Simon laughs at him softly but he's not a hold out. He feels good. Simon feels good.

Kamina puts his hands on him and it's nice. He's warm. Solid. Like Kamina's legs feel. Heavy. Where did this all come from? The kid surges up against him and he's pushed up flush with what's gotta be the wall but his head's a little spiny. He didn't even drink that much. This is ridiculous.

Then Simon has a hand between his legs, and it starts making sense because now that he looks he is very obviously hard. "Oh," he says softly, and the kid is smirking at him. "Oh," he says again. And that feels good. There's this buzzing between his ears, and now that he's identified it it's certainly familiar. The same buzz, the same warmth he gets when he jacks off, when he fucks. For some reason that connection hadn't been made until now. Stupid he couldn't guess it when this is how it feels every time. Confusing and overwhelming and good. Probably it's just that the two of them haven't gone this far before now. 

Simon's tugging on him, and he comes away from the wall easy. They tumble onto the bed. Kamina's only just coordinated enough to catch himself and not squish the kid. Then Simon is fitting their hips together and rutting up against Kamina. It's fucking good. Really good. His head is stuck on how good it feels like a skipping record. And fuck.

Simon sounds good. Looks good. It's just good very good. He wants to hold onto it, but it's slipping and suddenly things are really intense. A wave of physical sound. His whole body shudders, and he tries to push it back, but it's unstoppable. Things get really quiet in his head then, and he realizes he just came. He just came really hard. Fuck.

Simon is smiling up at him. He groans and rolls onto his back.

"Fuck," he tells the ceiling.

"Yeah," Simon agrees.

"Did you-" Kamina starts to ask because he's aware he'd completely lost track of things for a while and has no idea if Simon came. He trails off, waiting for a reply and Simon's nodding.

"Yeah," the kid says again.

Kamina feels like jelly. Tired and sluggish. He didn't really sleep last night, but not being able to sleep makes no sense anymore. He's so comfortable.


	3. Chapter 3

The morning greets him harshly. It's worse when he glances out the window into the parking lot and Gurren isn't there. He has a moment of intense panic before remembering that it's at the shop being painted. The second thing he notices is that his pants are sticky. A nugget of regret lodges itself in his throat telling him that he'd intended to stop being any kind of romantic with his brother. 

Now instead he's taken it a step further.

Simon is watching TV. A fact which takes him a surprisingly long time to understand. Cartoons. Kamina groans. He feels groggy. Probably a little dehydrated.

"Morning," Simon says. He's watching something that looks like Thundercats maybe. Kamina recognizes Panthro almost. He decides that it doesn't make sense and is therefore unimportant. "You might wanna take a shower."

Kamina does want to take a shower. He groans again, rolling off the bed. He's pissed at himself. Mostly for the continuing nature of his engagement with the kid, but for now he's blaming the fact that he fell asleep in cum-y jeans over the covers. The shower is nice though. It kind of melts a bit of the tension out of his head.

"We should check on Gurren," he says, balling his pants up and tossing them toward his backpack. Simon seems distracted, but Kamina can't tell what by. That's not unusual. He has a hard time reading people most days. Simon's the only other human being he has any grasp on. No he shouldn't say "only other". He should say "only". "Only other" implies he has a grasp on himself. He'll tell the world he does but the truth is the only grasp he has is for straws and they are still evading him.

"What about Breakfast?" Simon asks. Kamina gives him his point. Eating is more important than his ridiculous dependency on an inanimate object.

There's a McDonalds, and Simon is ecstatic about hashbrowns. Kamina gets them sausage Mcmuffins and kind of has to bully the counter guy into giving him syrup when he didn't order pancakes. Simon gives him a few looks and he feels bad for it. He's never worked service before but he gets it. He just really wants his fucking syrup. 

They eat. Simon tells him a couple of ridiculous dream stories and looks clam happy. Kamina tries to focus on his good mood and not spoil everything for himself but honestly he's terrible at that. He can't even fully remember why he's upset by the time they get to the shop. 

It's about eleven o'clock. The sun is so hot, Kamina worries about Simon's skin burning in it. He ushers the kid inside quickly.

"Checking up on your baby?' Leeron asks.

Kamina shrugs at him. Bad moods always steal his talkative personality right out from under him. 

"Bro's weird about the car missing," Simon observes jokingly. Kamina is at once impressed by the kid's ability to read him and resentful that his brain has just been read aloud to someone who's hardly more than a stranger. Simon beams at him when he glares at the kid though, and Kamina can't keep up being angry with him long when Simon isn't escalating things.

"Well I'd imagine," Leeron says in this tone Kamina cannot really place. He looks to Simon for a cue but the kid doesn't seem to find the interaction off putting at all. Leeron's particularly hard to read. He almost makes Kamina miss the simplicity of pigs. "You boys come on over here," he says then.

Simon is a willing sacrifice. Kamina feels a good amount of trepidation. The role reversal bothers him. 

"Alright, so: Me being the genius I am, I did a little search," Leeron announces. "Turns out there aren't many people in the counrty going by the name Genome. Honestly I think it's obvious why. I found about twenty guys using the alias online. Most of them have the name paired up with something else. There's a little and big Genome. There's even a Lord Genome."

Leeron hands Kamina a sheet of paper with a compiled list of names and locations. Counting there are twenty seven marks in all. Most of the different variations have a civilian name to go with them, but Lord Genome doesn't. He stares at it for a moment, and mentally circles the name. The image of it feels like it's burned into his mind when he looks away. 

"So what are you boys gonna do next?" Leeron asks. "You're gonna need my phone number, that's certain."

"Why?" Kamina asks.

"Well because you'll probably need me! You know so you can get more information. All of that." Leeron scribbles onto the back of a business card and hands it to him like he's placing a go piece. Kamina takes it and hands both papers to Simon for safe keeping. 

"Where's the lady?" Kamina asks, changing the subject.

Leeron makes a point of showing he's offended. When Kamina check's Simon's responses it seems to be a joke though "Did you forget Yoko's name?" 

Kamina maintains eye contact instead of answering. It's something that usually has a good amount of effect. Leeron is unphased though, and that kind of ticks him off. He actually kind of wants to hate Leeron. Leeron's too fucking hard to read or easily intimidate but he's clearly useful, and it's frustrating. 

His play for dominance fails desperately, and Leeron ends up giving him this look he can't quite place, jamming a thumb over his shoulder. "Pretty girl's that way, stud," he says. Simon snickers, but Kamina's pretty sure he missed another joke. It annoys him further that this one seems to be at his personal expense. 

There's a door in the back of the shop that leads into the garage, and Leeron waves them through it like he can't wait to get them out of his hair. The garage itself is not that big. There are two lifts, and a bit of empty space, but it's pretty modest. A couple of guys are talking outside. Kamina thinks he can vaguely place them as people he's seen here before but he's terrible at remembering people. He's still proud he managed to remember Leeron.

"You're the Roadrunner guy," A big dude with tanned skin says in their general direction. "Yoko got the body color done yesterday and now she's working on the designs. I wouldn't recommend interrupting her. Creative process. It'll make it harder on the people working with her if you do."

That honestly pisses Kamina off more. She should be ready to see him when he's ready to see her. He wants a progress report from the person who's actually in charge of the car. Not just some guy who happens to have been standing around while she worked. 

"That's good to hear," Simon says happily. He kind of moves between Kamina and the new guy, and Kamina's a bit curious why until the kid puts a hand on his wrist. It's a very old and very clear command to calm down and not start a fight. "I guess we'll come back later to talk to her. Do you have any idea when she'll take a break or-"

"She takes lunch in about an hour and a half. You might wanna come back then," the guy tells them. Then he seems to realize something and fluster a bit. "My name's Dayakka, by the way," he adds, thrusting a hand towards Simon. "I'm a technician."

"Simon," Simon replies taking the offered hand. "I'm Kamina's little brother." And when Simon says it he says it as they practiced it. As a lie for strangers who might wanna take him away. Not as the truth it actually is. Simon doesn't make Kamina any excuses though, and Kamina feels a little better for that. He doesn't think he could handle any "forgive him" speeches right now.

"Do you know of any good ways to kill time around here?" Simon asks.

"Well there's a movie theater, and a roller rink but honestly we don't have much for entertainment in a small town like this. If you've got a gun there's a shooting range," he suggests and Kamina does have a gun but it's not legal, and bullets are expensive. 

Simon usually isn't the face of team Gurren. When they were younger, Simon had been so anxious that talking to people was incredibly difficult. Kamina had been the one to handle everything for years, but it seemed like the older Simon got, the more often he took the reigns socially. Kamina almost resented him for it. He wasn't exactly a fan of being silenced even if it probably was for his own good. 

Simon must be catching on that Kamina isn't in the best head space these days. A bit obsessed, and frustrated.

Kamina is boiling in his own annoyance by the time they get out on the sidewalk. Simon grabs his hand and drags him down the street. The kid doesn't really say anything, and Kamina doesn't care, because words are scarce for him these days it seems. Anything off script is hard to handle. He feels like his response time is lagging. It pisses him off.

Everything pisses him off. 

Simon takes them back to the motel room, and sits Kamina up against the headboard of the bed. 

"What are we doing?" Kamina asks, and he's been meaning to ask something like that for a little while, but it wasn't a baked question yet. Still all doughy and undercooked. Not ready to be spoken aloud yet. 

"Hanging out," Simon tells him. He goes to Kamina's backpack and shoves his arms in up to the elbows rooting through it. He pulls out a tangle and the old iphone Kamina had stolen a few months ago. It had been deactivated at some point after Kamina nagged it, but it still has music on it.

It's all oldies, Motown singers and jazz bands. Simon gives Kamina the tangle and puts Straighten Up And Fly Right on. Tangles are dumb, plastic, and childish, but Kamina plays with it anyway, winding it around his fingers like it's compulsory. He fiddles with things like it's crack. Chief had always kept a switch to snap over his hands when he couldn't stay still. 

The plastic squeaks. Simon says that fiddling with stuff is good for releasing stress. Simon tends to be right, so Kamina listens. Next to him, the kid pulls out a sketch book. They've been filling this one up together for a couple weeks. He flips through to one of the sketches he started, a little robot. Kamina's been admiring it's journey from blob of lines to clean sketch. He's pretty partial to the shape of it. How it would be ridden in as if it were a giant bucket with legs. 

"You really wanna find your dad, huh?" Simon asks after a while of settling into the music. 

Kamina grunts an affirmative. 

"We'll find him," Simon says.

"How can you be so sure?" Kamina asks, and he knows what's coming next. He's glad for it honestly because if it wasn't for this he'd probably have crumbled a long time ago, decided to be like the guys they left behind in Jiha, and love the shit he lived in. 

"It's like you always say, isn't it? You just gotta kick logic out!" Simon's words are punctuated by the quick decisive sound of graphite on paper. 

Kamina smiles at the tangle in his hands, and honestly he feels a lot better from just that. Simon's made of gold. Like actual gold. He was poured, pound by pound of molten metal into a mold of wax. The only one of his kind. A master craft. No mold remained to make him again. No image would ever match his truly.

Kamina leans up against him. "I'm loosing my cool, aren't I?" he asks.

"A little," Simon tells him.

Kamina laughs and steals his pencil, pulls the sketchbook into his lap and adds a few lines here and there before handing it back. Simon takes the suggestions into consideration.

"I'll snap out of it," Kamina promises as the kid finalizes one of the suggestions he made, erasing the others. Kamina is really starting to wonder where he's going with this. 

"You'd better."

When Simon smiles it lights up rooms. When he'd been little, he'd always wanted a little brother. Simon was more than he ever could have asked for.

\--

They eat lunch, and then dinner, and they sleep. They wake up, they roll out of bed and it's off to the auto shop.

The chick's actually waiting for them in the parking lot when they get there. They're both half asleep, but Kamina's antsy to get out of town, get on with life. 

"You boys just gonna skip when I give you these keys?" she asks, and Kamina tries to gage Simon's reaction before forming his own.

"Yeah?" he says without much conviction when Simon is blank and dopey from sleep. 

"And I was hoping you'd stay a while longer. Not be strangers," she tells him. 

He doesn't really know how to respond to that, so he just holds his hands out for the keys. She makes a face he doesn't really know how to place and drops the keys in his palm.

"Thanks," he says. More to the keys than her.

"And one more thing," she adds, "You idiots are off on some big quest to find your dad, Leeron said he'd help you, y'know, so I wanna give you my number too. In case you ever need another paint job, or you just wanna chat." She seems a bit uncertain.

"I'm not really the chatty type," Kamina tells her warily. He turns the keys over in his hand, a little lost in the sensation of the metal on his skin.

"Well, you know," she says. "I wouldn't mind chatting with you."

Kamina really doesn't understand this girl. She makes no sense. Why is she so interested in them? "I'll keep that in mind," is the only thing he can really think to say. She flashes him a small smile but it doesn't seem that happy. He can't tell how or why though. So many people smile when they're not happy and he gets that even less than he gets her. 

"Here," she says, holding out another business card. 

When he flips it over her name is written on the back in katakana, all cuted up with her phone number right under it.

"I guess you want mine too then?" he asks, sliding it into his pocket.

"Well - I mean - You don't have to give it to me," she says.

"Great 'cause I ain't got one," he deadpans.

It's a bit surprising when she starts laughing because he hadn't meant to be funny, but he's never been good at clocking what people will laugh at so he shrugs it off.

"I feel like I should have figured that one out on my own," she tells him.

"Well we can't all be mathematicians," he offers, and she gives him a big smile. It's a real one this time.

"i mean it. Don't be strangers, okay?" she assures.

"Of course," he says.

"Where are ya'll headed off to next?" she asks.

Kamina gives her a one shouldered shrug. "We still haven't really got any leads," he says.

"Why jet off so soon then?"

He pauses, thinking about the pigs, and how chief is bound to know automatically it was him. Now that he thinks about it the new paint job on Gurren will probably help him doge that, but it was still a stupid and dangerous thing to do. "I may have started some trouble a town over," he admits.

Simon starts, staring at him with wide eyes, but Yoko just nods.

"What'd ya do?" she asks.

Kamina chuckles nervously. Simon is glaring at him and he can feel it. "You know? I may or may not have stolen a few pigs?" he says, but it comes out sounding like a question.

He can see Simon's face out of the corner of his eye and it's not a pretty look he's being given. Not by a long shot. He swallows hard.

"Oh yeah. Jiha's a pig town," Yoko says. "That sounds bad. What'd you do with them?"

Kamina gives her a full shrug this time, and pats Simon on the shoulder, hoping that'll get him some endearment from the kid. Simon just crosses his arms and pouts at the tarmac.

"Well," Yoko says.

"Yup," Kamina responds.

There's a moment of silence, and then he pats Simon's shoulder again. "We should uh-"

"Yeah," she agrees.

He nods at her and she gestures over her shoulder. "The car's over this way," she says.

She leads them around the side of the building to the garage and there Gurren is sitting in all it's glory, colors restored and design blazed across the hood. 

He has to take a deep breath. 

It's just like being a little kid again seeing it like that. Simon whistles. 

"So you like it?" Yoko asks.

"It's um," Kamina starts trying to speak past the lump that's suddenly welled up in his throat. "Wow."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" she presses.

"He's happy," Simon assures her.

Kamina's hands are shaking. He doesn't quite know how to get the right words out or even what those words would be so he just gestures vaguely, and lets his hands fall back to his sides. He takes another deep breath trying to steady himself, and then it all hits him at once.

"Holy shit," he says, feet quick to carry him over. "And this is a rush job? You noticed the details on the side- I! Shit."

He wants to touch is but he also doesn't want to ruin the masterpiece.

Yoko looks proud when he glances back at them. "Do you remember this Simon?" Kamina asks.

When Simon had been a baby they'd used to drive around in Gurren with his father all the time. Simon's mom had loved to lean out the windows while the old man opened it up. 

"You mom would scream when dad floored it. Do you remember?"

Simon looks a lot less upset now, almost as if he's in awe.

"It always thought it was reder," Simon says. 

Kamina laughs at him.

"It's got red," he says, pointing at the highlights and the accent colors. "Fuck I remember when he first put the fire on the sides," he says indicating the wisps of blue flam curling across the doors.

Kamina had been seven and Simon had been three, and they'd gone toddling out into the driveway. The old man had told them stories about how he used to race cars when he was younger.

Kamina feels his brain grind to a halt.

How the old man used to race cars when he was younger. How he used to race with a gang. With some guy he called Genome.

"Shit," he says under his breath and then again louder, "Shit!"

"What?" Yoko asks.

"Nothing I just remembered something," he tells her.

"Leave the stove on?" she asked. 

Kamina shakes his head. "Is Leeron in?"

"Sure?" Yoko tells him. "He's inside."

"Great I need to talk to him."

"What about?"

"About Genome."

"Like a science project?" she asks.

"Nah like mobsters. Like gang stuff. It's complicated," he throws over his shoulder. He tosses his back pack through the window and into the back seat before heading for the door.

Leeron is sitting at his desk when Kamina comes in. He seems a bit startled for a second.

"Did my dad ever say anything about racing cars?" he asks fervently. Yoko and Simon rush in after him as Leeron blinks in confusion.

"You get straight to the point don't you, dear?" Leeron asks.


End file.
